


wheels keep turning (and i'm going under)

by estora



Series: run for cover [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Missing Scene, One Shot, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estora/pseuds/estora
Summary: This is how Rodney McKay destroys the universe.





	wheels keep turning (and i'm going under)

**Author's Note:**

> A missing scene from _the house is burning (better run for cover)_, which you do have to read in order to understand this. Originally this was supposed to be a much longer one-shot, but then I realised that this section stood pretty well on its own. Title from Gabrielle Aplin's _[Run For Cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_8FEONLkE8)_.

This is how Rodney McKay destroys the universe: by accident. 

He didn’t know he was destroying the universe, not then, and if he’d known then yeah, he’d have made another choice. Hindsight is his super-power. That’s not a super-power, you say? Yes, he sees that now, especially when he’s irritable, hungry, and sleep deprived. 

The hunger is an easy fix. It’s pancake morning – it's always fucking pancake morning and he’s sick of pancakes. Rodney McKay, the slightly overweight hypoglycaemic Canadian of Atlantis, sick of pancakes? Stop the presses! But when the loop resets he’s back to the state he was in the very first one, exhausted and starving, fuelled only by the adrenalin of his panic. So he eats the pancakes drenched in genuine Canadian maple syrup to offset the hunger, which in turn decreases his irritability. 

There’s no cure for the sleep deprivation. He’s tried napping and it doesn’t work because every six hours it’s like he’s gone twenty-four hours without sleep. He’s tried caffeine pills and it doesn’t work because every six hours the effects wear off. 

“Morning,” John says, sliding into the chair opposite Rodney with a plate full of pancakes. “You’re up early.” 

Just once, Rodney wishes John would use a different opening line. “I’ve been awake all night,” Rodney says, poking at his own breakfast. He used too much maple syrup; they’re all soggy. 

“Big project?” John asks through a large mouthful. 

“Something like that.” 

John notices Rodney not eating. “You okay?” 

“No,” Rodney says. 

John waits for Rodney to elaborate, but he doesn’t, so they sit in silence and eat their pancakes. John doesn’t realise it but the only reason he stays in the mess hall for two hours watching Rodney pick at his food is because Teyla isn't here to force him to admire Lorne's latest masterpiece, and Rodney’s one-word response has probably alarmed him so he’s foregoing golf on the pier. When Rodney can’t prod at his sodden pancakes any longer, they leave and John offers to walk with Rodney to the science labs. 

“I’m taking the day off,” Rodney says. 

John frowns and halts Rodney in the corridor with a gentle touch to his arm. That’s familiar, too – he's done this about thirty times. “Hey,” he says, voice low and concerned, “what’s wrong?” 

It’s like a real-life RPG. The conversation branches about ten different ways no matter how Rodney responds, which probably implies something about free will but he’ll leave that to the philosophers. He mapped it out about twenty loops ago, but only because he’d spent the previous few loops sedated and trapped in the infirmary because Carson thought he was having a mental breakdown. If Rodney says he’s fine, John doesn’t believe him and asks again. If Rodney denies it again, John leaves him to it but says he’s here if Rodney needs him, in that embarrassed _ aw-shucks _ kind of voice. If Rodney tells him they’re trapped in a time loop, John believes him if Rodney has been predicting his speech first. If not, Rodney gets taken to the infirmary because John’s worried that Rodney is hallucinating or has brain damage from the parasite. Escaping the infirmary relies on three factors: Rodney’s behaviour up until that conversation (hysterical = sedation; calm = a staff meeting, where convincing Woolsey is a whole new set of branching dialogue trees), his ability to convince _ Carson _ that the same six hours are looping, and admitting responsibility for said time loop. John helps, but only as long as Rodney avoids him knowing that Rodney can stop the loops any time he wants at the expense of John’s life, because that gets them trapped in a fight about letting John go and they always run out of time, so Rodney never finds out who wins the argument. 

Teyla always believed him. 

“John,” Rodney says, swallowing hard, “I – I know we don’t talk about it because we’re not supposed to, as – as colleagues, as friends, as men, whatever – or because you’re US military and you have an image and reputation to uphold, and me because I’m a coward –” 

“You’re not a coward, Rodney.” 

“I –” Rodney blinks at John’s oddly stern tone. “Thank you. Point is, I want to – to say some things that I think have gone unsaid between us for some time now, and I’m, I’m pretty sure you feel the same, maybe, at least I hope you do otherwise I’m going to feel really stupid for the next –” he checks his watch, “– three and a half hours. Look, I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone in my entire life, and honestly before this I didn’t even think myself capable of it. I’ve learned a lot about myself since coming to Atlantis – what I’d lay my life on the line for, how far I’d push the boundaries of ethics and scientific morality in the pursuit of knowledge, and – and what I’m willing to do to save someone I care about. And my terror at that knowledge aside, I want you to know that I don't regret anything, John. Not a single moment. You've made me a better man. These have been – some of the best years of my life and I want you to know that I owe you –” 

“Are you dying?” 

Rodney stops and looks, really looks, at John’s face. His expression is stony, his face gaunt and pinched white with barely repressed alarm because when would Rodney McKay ever willingly talk/complain about feelings that weren’t associated with mild discomfort, hunger and exhaustion unless something was terribly, horribly wrong? Turns out living the same six hours over and over and over again takes away a lot of self-constructed boundaries. What’s that saying? That freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose? 

“No,” Rodney says, but that’s a lie so he shakes his head and corrects, “not yet, anyway.” 

John’s hands grasp his biceps, anchoring him to reality even as it unravels before his eyes. “God, look at you,” John murmurs. “You’re terrified.” 

And God, he is, he _ is _, Rodney has never felt like this before, he’s never tasted this terror like poison and metal on his tongue and bile burning in his throat, not when he destroyed a solar system, not when Jeannie was dying, not even when the parasite killed him one thought at a time until all that was left of him was a shell. He's going under, he's slipping away and he can't stop himself because he’s terrified of living in a universe without John Sheppard in it, so this is how Rodney McKay destroys the universe: hysterical, desperate, and a little bit insane. 

“John,” Rodney whispers, “I’ve never been so scared.” 

John wets his lips, his eyes darting over Rodney’s face. “Okay,” he says, in that terse-but-calm tone he uses when he’s worried and trying to hold it together. Even his hair is alarmed. “Okay, just – look, let’s – go to the pier, yeah? Just you and me, we’ll have a beer, and you can – you can tell me what’s going on.” 

So they go to the pier and sit on the edge, and John cracks a few cans of beer open for them. 

“Remember this?” he asks, passing a can over. 

“Vaguely,” Rodney replies, and manages a small smile as he nurses the drink. “Thanks, Arthur.” 

John snorts, then sips his beer and turns serious. “Look, you can talk to me, Rodney,” he says. “Whatever’s going on – you know I’m here for you, right?” 

“Of course I do,” Rodney sighs, because he does – nine hundred and ninety-five loops later, he knows that John is always there for him. “And I appreciate that, I do, really, it’s just… there’s nothing you can do, John. I have to fix this myself.” 

“Fix what? If it’s a – a doctor you need, maybe Carson can –” 

“It’s not that sort of problem.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“Well, you _ would _ believe me if I told you,” Rodney says. Inside joke. John doesn’t get it. 

“So let me help you.” 

“You _ have _been helping me,” Rodney says, and sets the can of beer down to pinch the bridge of his nose, a migraine throbbing hard behind his eyes and the taste of blood at the back of his throat. “Look, I’m – sorry if I worried you earlier. I just needed to say it. At least once.” 

There’s a long silence, then John’s hand touches Rodney’s shoulder, urging him to look up and meet his eyes. 

“For what it’s worth, Rodney – I do,” John says. “Feel the same, that is.” 

He's only saying that because he thinks Rodney is dying, and if they can’t say it when there’s nothing left to lose then when can they? Rodney exhales and leans forward, and John presses his forehead back against his. Funny, Rodney thinks; even with Teyla deleted from existence, John knows this gesture. 

“I’m not going to lose you,” he vows, and this, _this_ is how Rodney McKay destroys the universe: trying to save John Sheppard’s life. 

“I’m right here,” John says; his hands tighten on Rodney’s shoulders and Rodney never wants this moment to end even though the seconds are slipping away like water running between his fingers. He clutches back, as if this will keep John in his arms, as if their embrace alone will break the cycle and save John’s life from Rodney’s stupidity. “I’m not going anywhere, I –” 

And then it’s 6:15am again Rodney is in Janus’s lab, and his arms close around thin air. 

This is how Rodney McKay destroys the universe: on purpose. He rises slowly to his feet and wipes the blood from his nose, and starts again. 


End file.
